


Two Souls Intertwined

by darkrose



Series: Children of the Land [2]
Category: Dragon Age II, Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, F/F, Heavensward, Heavensward Spoilers, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-30
Updated: 2016-09-16
Packaged: 2018-07-11 03:30:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7026766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkrose/pseuds/darkrose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the midst of despair, the Warrior of Light will find an unlikely ally--for the Lifestream touches more worlds than one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Begins just after the Patch 3.3 quest "The Word of the Mother". Title is from "Dragonsong," by Nobuo Uematsu.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After fleeing Kirkwall, Fenris decided to leave Hawke, Isabella, and Varric and go off on his own. In retrospect, this was a bad idea.

Fenris felt like an idiot.

He should never have left Hawke, Isabela and Varric. He should have been paying more attention to his surroundings. He most certainly shouldn't have assumed, after everything he'd witnessed, that Templars did not pose a threat to him.

And he certainly should have realized that to lyrium-starved renegades, his markings would seem like a feast. Mages could draw mana from him; why had it never occurred to him that Templars could feed their addiction from his curse as well?

He fought, but it was three on one and they brought him down easily. One sat on him while two others shoved a gag in his mouth and bound him with enchanted shackles they'd undoubtedly brought along for apostates. Once he was secured, they debated among themselves how best to access the lyrium in his body.

Despite the chains, he was still struggling when a dagger sprouted in one Templar's neck. The one sitting on Fenris was thrown off and back by a blast of very familiar magic. The third, who was foolish enough to take his helmet off, took a flaming crossbow bolt to the head. Fenris had never been so happy to see Bianca.

"Get him loose, Varric!" Isabela yelled. Hawke picked Fenris up like a sack of flour.

"No time--pretty sure there are a few more where these came from. We need to move!" Hawke climbed up on a...horse? When and where did they get horses? And how long had they been following Fenris? He draped Fenris over the horse's neck, and grabs the reins. "Sorry, Fenris. Um...try to hang on?"

With the gag still in his mouth, Fenris was unable to point out what a ridiculous statement that was. Hawke prodded the beast into a gallop and none too soon, because Fenris could hear the clanking of armor behind them.

"Watch out!" Varric called; from his uncomfortable vantage point, Fenris couldeasily see why. They'd come to a crumbling ruin of an old Tevinter bridge spanning a fast-rushing river. And from the sound of it, they had just been flanked by another contingent of Templars.

"Stop the apostate!" There was a flash of light; Hawke's mount reared and Fenris slid off, landing on the bridge right beside a section of stonework that gave way. He fell, tumbling into the river. He heard Hawke scream his name before the icy water took him, the weight of the chains dragging him straight to the bottom.

Drowning turned out to be less painful that he would have expected, at least until his markings flared in a instinctive and utterly useless response to danger. The usual pain that accompanied the activation was strangely brief, and he found himself floating not in water, but in a vast starry expanse. He weighed nothing, as if in dying, he had left his body behind, drifting in an endless now outside of time. A cacophony of voices surrounded him, growing louder and louder until one, distinctly female, separated itself from the rest.

"Life for life," it says, and the words are a song.

A second female voice, equally musical, responds, "Love for love."

The first voice again, "We have an accord."

And the second, "Balance will be maintained."

A series of visions flashes through Fenris' mind:

_A giant crystal glowing with blue light, and another, twin to it but pulsing with dark energy._

_A demon of fire, another made of stone, and a third made of the wind itself._

_A man in a horned helmet wearing strange armor stands wreathed in flame._

_A mage dressed in a robe that seems made of shadows, face hidden by a red mask, hovers in the air and laughs._

_A great black dragon with empty eye sockets roars with defiance and hatred._

_A massive armored figure with glowing red eyes wielding a huge greatsword changes into an old elven man in elaborate robes, staring up in horror._

_A pale-skinned, white haired elven woman lifts her arms and vanishes into shimmering light, becoming a blonde-haired human woman dressed in white who dissolves into light as well._

_Yet another armored man, this one holding a lance, screams in agony as darkness engulfs him._

_A tall, handsome elven man with silver hair and sky-blue eyes, wearing chain mail and carrying a sword and a broken shield. He looks directly at Fenris, seeming to truly see him, mouth curving into a gentle smile._

Fenris was abruptly returned to his body, his lungs filling with water. Before he slipped into darkness, he heardthe first voice again.

_Hear..Feel...Think..._


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris awoke to find that his life had just become a lot more complicated than he ever could have imagined.

_Hear...Feel...Think..._  
  
Fenris gasped, choking and thrashing around in a desperate attempt to escape the water's icy grip. It took him several moments to realize that wasn't in the water, he wasn't cold, and he wasn't drowning. He seemed to be lying on a pallet, wrapped in blankets and furs. Light from candles placed in the corners of the room cast flickering shadows on stone walls.  
  
A noise that sounded like chiming bells startled him, and his markings flared briefly. He could see...something...a bright wisp of light that fluttered away from him over to a tall, horned figure, and he managed to sit up, trying to get a better look.  
  
As the figure approached Fenris realized that it—no he, this person was definitely male—was not Qunari, as he'd first thought. He was tall like a Qunari, but less broad, and his skin was dark brown, not gray. Black patches of what looked like scales covered his neck and the sides of his face. His hair was the color of a Tevinter red wine, cut short and uneven as though he'd hacked it off with a sword. Black horns on the sides of his head curved backwards, the sharp-looking points in the front tipped with silver. He wore a long black skirt and a grey robe, trimmed with dark fur and open at the throat to display an elaborate jeweled choker. A thick book bound in red leather was attached to his belt.  
  
The man's size and horns were unusual, but not outside the realm of Fenris' experience. His eyes were another matter. With blood red irises surrounded by a ring of pale gold, they almost seemed to glow in the dim light, and Fenris couldn't look away.  
  
"Ah, you're finally awake," His slightly nasal voice reminded Fenris painfully of Hawke's; even the accent sounded almost Ferelden. "I'd ask how you're feeling, but it it's anything close to how you look, then the answer is, 'like shite.'"  
  
Apparently he had Hawke's sense of humor as well. "Oh, _thank_ you," Fenris said before he could stop himself—not that he tried very hard.  
  
The man just shrugged. "I don't know how long you'd been in that water before I hauled you out, so frankly, I'm impressed that you're alive. The regard of those strange eyes was unsettling, and Fenris was suddenly very aware that he was naked. He pulled the bedding close around him.  
  
"How—" he began, and then a tide of questions threatened to overwhelm him. _How long was I unconscious, where am I, who are you, why am I not dead, what was that vision I had..._  
  
The man crouched down beside Fenris. "Take your time. You've been out the better part of two days."  
  
"But..." Fenris' body may have been warm—too warm under all those blankets—but his brain felt like it was frostbitten. "My armor and my sword—where are they? And Haw—my friends?"  
  
Glowing eyes narrowed. "There was no one nearby when I found you, and you were naked as your nameday. I'd have figured bandits except that one, there wasn't a scratch on you and two, aside from the occasional adventurer and those idiots at the Convictory, there aren't exactly a lot of spoken around here. Beastkin, cloudkin and dragons don't bother to strip their prey and toss them in the river, in my experience."  
  
Individually, the man's words made sense. Taken as a whole, they were meaningless babble that Fenris could make neither heads nor tails of. He settled for a more basic question: "Where am I?"  
  
"Where do you think you are?" the man countered immediately, then waved his hand. "No, never mind; that was stupid. Let's start over. I'm Galqar." He paused for a moment as if anticipating a response.  
  
Since Fenris had no idea what that response would be, he simply grunted. "Fenris."  
  
The man—Galqar's—eyebrows went up. "Like the wolf in Snowcloak? No, that's Fenrir. An odd name, but I suppose I'm one to talk, at least in Eorzea."  
  
Eorzea. The word was alien to Fenris, but for some reason it made the hair on the back of his neck stand up, as if it was a warning, or some ominous portent. He stared up at Galqar, who was regarding him with a thoughtful expression.  
  
"You're...not from Eorzea, are you? Garlean, perhaps? No third eye, but then again, if you're a half-blood—"  
  
"A what?" Fenris was vaguely offended, though he wasn't sure why.  
  
"Well...your ears are clearly Elezen, but aside from that you look like a short Midlander. I figured you were like Hilda, mother a Hyur servant and a spoiled noble brat Elezen for a father."  
  
Fenris clenched his jaw. Either Galqar was being deliberately dense, or was mocking him, or... "I am an elf, which should be obvious," he snapped.  
  
"'Elf?' That sounds like you're half Elezen and half Lalafell, which I'm not sure is physically possible." Galqar shook his head. "Not that it matters, I suppose. To answer your earlier question, you're in the eastern part of the Coerthas Western Highlands. Lucky for you, I was out digging for some mythrite when I saw you glowing in the water. Good think you had those markings; I wouldn't have known you were there otherwise."  
  
"These markings were forced upon me," Fenris snarled. "I did not chose them, and they have brought me little but pain."  
  
Galqar blinked. "That's...why would someone give you the ability to channel raw aether if you didn't want them to? Just figuring out how to do it without killing you, and then the cost..."  
  
Fenris' hands balled into fists, his fingernails digging into his palms. "I was a slave," he said. "My master...inflicted this on me because it gave him more power."  
  
"A slave? Twelve Gods, where are you _from_?"  
  
Hawke had been surprised to learn that Fenris was a slave, but he'd been aware that slavery existed outside Ferelden. Galqar was apparently shocked by the very concept. And then there was the reference to twelve gods. Fenris felt like he was standing on the edge of a cliff, the ground about to crumble beneath him. Before he could ask where he was a second time—and he wasn't sure he was ready for the answer—Galqar stood up.  
   
"I have a feeling this is about to get ridiculously complicated, so we should eat first," he told Fenris. "The soup should be almost done. Do you think you can stand?"  
  
Fenris gritted his teeth and forced himself to struggle to his feet while trying to keep the blanket closed around him. A corner of Galqar's mouth turned up. "Now that you're awake, I can get your measurements and make something for you to wear. I don't think anything of mine will fit you."  
  
Given that Fenris just barely came up to Galqar's chest, it was hard to disagree with that assessment. Before he could respond though, a more urgent problem asserted itself. "Ah, is there a...."  
  
"Oh, right." Galqar pointed to a corner of the room. "There's a chamber pot behind that curtain. Nothing fancy, but at least you don't have to go outside. Lily, be a love and give our guest a bit of light, would you?"  
  
Fenris heard the chiming again as the wisp of light he'd seen earlier floated toward him. Only it wasn't just light—it was a tiny woman with butterfly wings, about half the length of his forearm, glowing like a lamp. She fluttered in a circle and then away in the direction Galqar had pointed.  
  
Fenris found the pot and dealt with matters, though he had to growl at the tiny woman when she seemed intent on watching the process. She flew away briefly, returning in order to guide him back to the main room. Fenris glanced about and noticed the lack of windows; it appeared to be a cellar of some sort. At one end of the room was what could only be described as an altar, with braces of candles carefully placed around a sculpture of a woman and a dragon.  
  
Galqar was hunched over a small stove, fussing with a pot. He stood up and Fenris' eyes widened as he spotted something he hadn't noticed before. Protruding from Galqar's backside was a black, scaled tail, as long as Fenris' arm and almost as wide around where it started at the base of his spine, taping to a single point at the tip. It swished a little as Fenris watched, mesmerized.  
  
"Ah, there you are. Better?" Galqar turned and frowned. "You look a bit flushed. Here—" He strode over and placed a hand on Fenris' forehead. "Still a little feverish." He picked up the leather-bound book and held it in one hand as he gestured with the other, a trail of red sparkles forming a pattern in the wake of his fingers. Fenris' markings flared bright blue as he felt the touch of magic settle on him.  
  
Then several things happened at once.  
  
"Get away from me, demon!" For that's what he had to be, a creature with horns and tail that cast magic. He was in the Fade, facing a desire demon, perhaps, drawn by his memories of Hawke....Fenris' lips drew back in a snarl and driven by old instinct he stretched out a hand to plunge it into the demon's chest. The tiny woman flew directly at his face, her chittering and chirping sounding infuriated. The demon grabbed Fenris' wrist.  
  
"Now, Lily. I know he's being extremely rude, but he's still a guest, and there's no call for using that kind of language. What would Surito say if he heard you talking like that?"  
  
"Let me go!"  
  
The demon turned his glowing eyes to Fenris. "Not until I know you're not going to try to strangle me, or whatever you were doing. I save your life and heal you, and this is the thanks I get?"  
  
Fenris opened his mouth to speak, though he had no idea what to say. Before he could get a word out, however, he felt a sharp pain in his forehead, like a dagger thrust into his skull. He clutched his head with his free hand and was vaguely aware of the demon doing the same before he was caught up in yet more visions. Unlike the things he saw when he floated before the blue crystal, Fenris was viewing these scenes from the inside.  
  
_He is a terrified, furious boy, small and skinny with only little nubs for horns, being kicked and beaten as he fights the men trying to shove him into a cage. He is a youth, digging his claws into his hands as he stands beside a massive man, both of them fearing for another as they watch fire rain down from the sky. He is a man grown, watching helpless as a girl—no, a very small woman—falls to the floor, a poisoned goblet falling next to her then he's running, trying not to think of those he's leaving behind and then he stops short at the end of a hallway, watching a tall, dark-haired man pleading with an old elf. A flicker of light out of the corner of his eye and he turns, but not fast enough as a spear made of light pierces a shield and it feels like his heart is the one being torn out as he screams in raw fury. Now he's surrounded by thirteen men who want to be gods but he will not allow it and he laughs as he channels fire and ice and lightning at them but they die too fast, too easily, and he is denied his vengeance—_  
  
—and he was Fenris again, staring up at Galqar, who was looking back at him with wide eyes.  
  
"Who...what are you?" Fenris whispered hoarsely. Galqar's mouth twisted.  
  
"I do wish people would stop phrasing it like that. I am..." He straightened up to his full height. "I am Galqar of the Au Ra, child of Clan Haragin and son of the Dusk Mother. In Limsa Lominsa, I am Galqar Elilsyn, Maelstrom Second Lieutenant, the foreign-born son of Copper Blade and Sthalfalk Wilfsyn. In Ishgard, I am a ward of House Fortemps..." Galqar broke off and cleared his throat before continuing, the words coming in a rush.  
  
"I am a specialist weaver, goldsmith and leatherworker, a botanist and a miner. I have mastered the Scholar's art of ancient Nym and the Summoner's art of ancient Allag. I wield both Black and White magic. I can rain death on my enemies from afar as a Bard and Machinist, with a sword as a Dark Knight or with my lance as...an Azure Dragoon. I am the Eikon Slayer and the Godsbane, a Scion of the Seventh Dawn, Chosen of Hydaelyn—" he snarled this last "—and for what little it's been worth of late, I am the Warrior of Light."  
  
Galqar took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "Also, I think the soup's ready." He gestured toward a table in one corner. "Shall we?"  
  
Not knowing what else to do, Fenris sat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Galqar Haragin](http://imgur.com/2WhTZPN)


End file.
